


Secret Sauce

by applecore



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Dubious Ethics, M/M, Romance, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecore/pseuds/applecore
Summary: “Gus,” Harvey said carefully, in a low voice just for the two of them, “Is there magic in the secret sauce?”
Relationships: Gus/Harvey (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Secret Sauce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).



> Dear recip, I hope you enjoy this treat. :)

The Stardew Valley Fair was winding down, and a good thing, too, because Harvey felt like he’d come close to eating his own weight in pork ribs. He’d had to covertly unbuckle his belt a while back, and then a little while after that he’d maybe unfastened the button of his pants and slid the zipper down a bit, and now no amount of disrobing could’ve helped him feel better. Glancing around to be make sure no one noticed, he pressed a hand to his stomach and began to massage it.

Scattered among the picnic tables were other fair-goers, slumped over like he was, absolutely stuffed full. Nobody looked unhappy about it, though. He’d have a stomachache coming on at some point, surely—he was a doctor, of course he knew better than to overeat like that—but just at the moment he felt only deeply, heavily satisfied.

Gus wandered by, picking up paper plates and abandoned cans of Joja cola. “You outdid yourself, Gus,” Harvey said. “I couldn’t stop eating.” He’d always had a weakness for ribs, but these were grilled to absolute perfection, the meat falling apart in his mouth, and the sauce… “I couldn’t get enough of that sauce,” Harvey said.

Gus grinned. “It’s my secret sauce,” he said, tapping the side of his nose.

“Some secret,” Harvey said. He could have sworn there wasn’t room in him for one more bite, but just the memory of that sauce made new saliva pool under his tongue. “You could make a fortune with that.”

“It’s only for special occasions,” Gus said, but he was pink with pleasure.

“A fortune,” Harvey repeated. He gestured to the few remaining at the picnic tables, every one of them grinning in a dreamy, post-dinner daze. “Look them, Gus. What’d you put in that stuff, magic?”

It was a joke. He meant it as a joke, but the Gus’s grin took on a rictus look, and he paled to an unhealthy, fish-belly white. That little guy in Harvey’s head that was always trying to solve the mystery in things, taking all the facts and making diagnoses—that little guy set the klaxons blaring.

“Gus,” Harvey said carefully, in a low voice just for the two of them, “Is there magic in the secret sauce?”

“It’s nothing bad,” Gus said hastily, stricken, like Harvey was going to call Mayor Lewis any moment and have him carted off to—well, they didn’t have a jail here, or a police. Have him locked in that old community center, maybe. Harvey had wandered around the ruins a bit, and he thought the boiler room could hold someone, if it had to. 

“It’s just a pinch, to make it delicious,” Gus said with pleading note in his voice. “I get it from the wizard. There’s no harm in it. We all use a little magic now and then around here, you know.”

“I—” Harvey began, and closed his mouth again. They did. He’d just accused Gus of a magical meat sauce, which would have gotten him laughed out of any other town he’d ever lived in. Marriage was proposed via a pendant acquired from a weathered old mariner who appeared out of nowhere only when it rained. There were monsters in the mines _and_ the sewer _and_ some part of the woods Harvey had never been able to find.

“It’s not harmful?” Harvey said.

“I swear,” Gus said.

Harvey thought Gus wouldn’t have felt the need to be quite so vehement if _everyone_ in Stardew Valley was fine with magic in their pork ribs, but he found himself unable to get too worked up about it. He was too pleasantly overfull for that—full of pork and magic barbeque. He licked his lips and found just a trace remaining of that seductive flavor. “Well,” he said at least. “It really was incredible.”

Gus broke into a smile. It really shouldn’t have surprised Harvey that Gus doctored his sauce. The man did everything hugely: smile and laugh and grill and feed everyone in his vicinity. It hadn’t escaped Harvey that the Stardrop kept a much more interesting menu than most bars would have bothered with, especially ones with an ironclad monopoly. Gus really liked feeding people.

Harvey found himself smiling back, and he patted his swollen, gurgling stomach. “Really great stuff.”

Gus followed the motion of Harvey’s hand, and Harvey stilled, feeling self-conscious. The problem was, now his hand was just resting there on his stomach full of pork ribs and pepper poppers and the farmer’s melon wine, no doubt making it look even bigger than it was. Harvey flushed and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I should—”

“I have some more,” Gus said in a rush.

“More?” Harvey echoed, sure Gus wasn’t offering what Harvey thought he was offering and _quite_ sure that he himself had no business taking that offer, and yet he licked his lips again without even meaning to, hunting for one last phantom taste of sauce and disappointed when there was none.

“I always keep some back to eat myself, you know. Can’t go stuffing my face when I’m feeding everyone else.”

“Well,” Harvey said awkwardly. “I’m sure you’ll—”

“I’d bring ‘em over, if you want,” Gus said. He was bright red now, but he kept right on. “After I finish cleaning up and we take these tables down.”

They were Gus’s pork ribs; he should get to eat them. Harvey had already eaten his fair share and more, and yet what he said was, “I’ll leave the front door open.”

Again, out come Gus’s huge grin, so bright and warm it was almost as good as the prospect of more ribs.

\--

The fair’s main activities were on Harvey’s doorstep and the picnic tables practically in his backyard, if he had one. He was very grateful for that fact as he slowly and carefully walked to his front door, one hand surreptitiously holding the waist of his pants up. He felt like a freighted barge making its ponderous way into harbor. His breath was short, food taking up space where his diaphragm would usually expand. He felt enormous.

Inside, he glanced at his latest airplane kit, but he knew there was no chance of getting any work done on that today. He felt that same dreaminess come over him that he’d seen in others’ faces: the bliss of a good meal, well-eaten and maybe fractionally aided by a wizard. He kicked off his shoes, draped his pants over the foot of his bed, and stretched out in his boxers. 

He put his hand to his stomach. There was no one to see him now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever eaten so much in his life. Well, he hadn’t eaten magical pork ribs before, either—except last year, and the year before, and—

Maybe Gus had put _two_ pinches in this year instead of one. 

It all sat heavily in him, but not uncomfortably. His skin was taut under his palm, and his stomach made happy, industrious gurgling noises, not unlike the sound of the new farmer’s kegs making wine.

He closed his eyes. That was all he needed now: a nap, to allow for digestion. He had to make room, after all. Gus was going to bring _more_.

\--

Harvey woke to the sound of the little bell ringing over the clinic door. He struggled upright, for a moment forgetting why he’d been sleeping in the middle of the day, half-dressed. Sitting up was awkward, too, as if he were very—

Oh. He was still very full.

“Knock knock,” Gus called, at the same time a rap came on door at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Just a minute,” Harvey said. He couldn’t invite Gus into his living quarters in his boxers, but the thought of buttoning up his pants again was deeply unappealing. After a scramble that turned up nothing but the empty plastic wrappers for several Joja Warm Pockets, Harvey pulled the pants on anyway. He left them unbuttoned and let the tails of his shirt hang loose for cover, and then he tugged his belt loosely taut over his stomach. It was a full two notches over from usual, and for a moment Harvey got lost in staring at that before he remembered that Gus was still waiting outside.

And Gus had brought _more_ ribs.

Still, Harvey gave himself a last dismayed glance. He looked disheveled, unprofessional—but this wasn’t a professional visit. He realized abruptly that he wasn’t entirely what kind of visit it was, and his pulse kicked up at the thought. He went to the door.

“There you are, Doctor Harvey,” Gus said jovially. He thrust a rectangular pan into Harvey’s arms. It was heavy and still warm, and the rich spicy aroma that drifted up from it, sneaking around the edging the aluminum foil covering, made Harvey’s mouth water. “Enjoy.”

Oh. This wasn’t a visit at all, not really. Harvey could take these upstairs and eat them all himself, with no one to care if he smeared sauce across his chin or dripped on his button-down shirt (again), no reason to feel self-conscious. That would be better, probably.

“Thank you?” Harvey said.

Gus nodded and turned to go.

“Wait,” Harvey said, before Gus had made it two feet. “Do—do you want to come in?”

He hadn’t thought a man could grin any brighter than Gus had earlier in the afternoon. He’d been wrong. Harvey flushed with pleasure and showed Gus up the stairs.

“I have a kitchen,” Harvey said, shrugging towards the open doorway. “No table, though. I eat everything in here. Um, could you get forks? And maybe a paper towel, for a napkin?” He still had the pan of ribs in his hands.

By the time Gus came back, Harvey had tugged a stool over to the main table so Gus would have a place to sit too. Harvey was busy peeling the aluminum back and barely managing not to drool directly into the pan, so it took him a moment to realize Gus hadn’t said anything. “What?” Harvey said, flushing.

Gus shook his head. “Not a lot of room to cook in there,” he said, thumbing behind him. Harvey saw he’d brought the entire roll of paper towels.

Harvey shrugged. “I don’t cook much. Easier to microwave something, or go down to your place.” He offered Gus a smile, but Gus just kept on looking sorry for him, which wasn’t what he was after at all. “Fortunately,” Harvey added, “sometimes a neighbor will drop by with food.”

Gus brightened at that, and Harvey didn’t add that aside from Gus himself, really it was mostly just the farmer twice a week with a coffee. “Anyway,” Harvey said. He settled into his chair and remembered, again, that actually he’d eaten a lot already today. As a doctor he really couldn’t advise himself to eat any more, and yet he was going to. The thought gave him a little thrill. 

He took another deep whiff, and it was all he could not to just faceplant into the pan. Instead he took a rib between his fingers and took a bite.

He moaned. How, in just an hour or so, had he forgotten how good they were? Well, that was the magic, probably. He ate every last bite of meat off the rib, up one side and down the other. It was only as he was licking his fingers that he remembered Gus, still sitting across the table from him. Harvey flushed hot with embarrassment. He had sauce everywhere already.

Gus only smiled and handed him a paper towel. Oh, this one was already wet. That was—really thoughtful of Gus. For just a moment, Harvey remembered that he hadn’t had another person in his bedroom since—well, he couldn’t remember the last time, actually. But now Gus was here, watching him, smiling gently like he was enjoying Harvey’s pleasure and not at all like Harvey was embarrassing himself.

Then Harvey licked his lips, and his attention returned inevitably to the pan.

He got lost in it again like he had at the fair, only now he didn’t even need to get up occasionally to refill his plate. Everything in the world he wanted was right in front of him. He nibbled and he chewed and he licked, and dimly he beacme aware that this shirt was a total loss and he might as well donate it to Emily for tie-dying.

He grew fuller. It seemed impossible, and yet he did. In her exercise class, Caroline liked to talk about taking up space in the world, and Harvey was, a little bit more space every minute. He expanded. And then, impossibly, there was a pile of empty ribs piled on a plate Gus had fetched at some point, and the pan was empty.

“Oh,” Harvey said, unable to entirely keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“All good things come to an end,” Gus said sagely.

“Oh,” Harvey repeated, as he shifted his weight. He was too heavy and swollen to move. He looked down and found his shirt stretching between the buttonholes. His breath was shallow. He rested a hand on his stomach and settled back against the chair. He took in just how deep the pan was and how high the pile of bare ribs. “I can’t possibly have eaten that much.”

Gus only grinned.

Magic. Only here, in Stardew Valley.

“I feel—” Harvey began, and had to pause to catch his breath. Then he had to pause a while longer to decide exactly how it was he felt. Impossibly large. Like a whale. Like a very contented, overstuffed whale.

Before he could say any of that, Gus shuffled his stool over to Harvey’s side of the table. “Sometimes I find a nice rub helps.”

“A rub?” Harvey said.

Gus reached his hand out and laid it on Harvey. Then he began to massage Harvey’s stomach, and Harvey moaned like Gus had taken him to bed instead. “I’m sorry,” Harvey said. “Really, I—”

“It’s all right,” Gus said. He was flushing, Harvey found, and smiling, too. It was a combination that really deserved more of Harvey’s attention, except Gus had a pair of hands on him that could have been a surgeon’s, and all Harvey could do was close his eyes and sag blissfully against the back of his chair.

Gus worked some air out of Harvey, little quiet belches that Harvey ought to have been embarrassed about, but it seemed he was beyond that now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good, so enormously well-fed, so taken care of—

Oh. _Oh Harvey, you idiot._ The pleasure of Gus’s hands on him wasn’t food and magic—or at least not _just_ food and magic. 

Harvey shifted back in his chair, away from Gus, except there wasn’t really anywhere for him to shift to. Gus looked up, concerned, and Harvey shook his head. “Thank you,” Harvey said carefully. “That was—that was very nice, but I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Oh,” Gus said, grimacing. “Overstayed my welcome, have I? Sorry, doc. You just gotta throw me out when I get to be too much. Happens all the time.”

“You’re not too much,” Harvey protested. He couldn’t have Gus thinking that. Not after he’d done all this for Harvey, for no reason except possibly in hopes Harvey wouldn’t mention anything to Mayor Lewis. Harvey didn’t think that was it, though. It was just kindness. It wasn’t Gus’s fault that Harvey had barely touched anyone or been touched outside a medical context in—well, he didn’t want to think about how long.

“Oh yeah?” Gus’s brow furrowed. Hesitantly, he said, “Then, what if I wanted you to take up my time for a little longer?”

“Really?” Harvey said. “I mean, I guess that’d be okay. That is, I mean, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Gus said, like they’d settled something. He put his hands back on Harvey, on the great swollen blissful gluttonous mass that was Harvey, and he kept on working until Harvey was quite certain he felt too good to ever move again. He would simply sit in that chair digesting contentedly until he died.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, as Gus cleaned up. Gus was always cleaning up, he thought. Feeding people, taking care. Not very different from a doctor at all.

Gus’s mouth worked. Harvey waited on whatever it was Gus was nerving himself up to say, and then he didn’t have to, because Gus ducked in close and dropped a kiss on Harvey’s mouth. Then Gus pulled sharply away again, his cheeks red.

Harvey didn’t know what to say. If he knew how to be even a little bit smooth, maybe he wouldn’t have still been a bachelor. What he said was, “So, no more secret sauce until next year?”

“Eh,” Gus said, breaking into a grin. He waggled his hand. “Like I said, special occasions. The Festival of the Winter Star is very special, I think.”

Harvey couldn’t have agreed more. Only a little over two seasons away. He could wait that long. Then, as Gus turned to go, Harvey said, “Would you kiss me again, before you leave?”

It wasn’t very smooth at all. He got his kiss, though. Gus tasted like the farmer’s finest pale ale. Harvey got some time to identify it, because this kiss lasted longer than the first one.

Eventually Harvey’s stomach groaned. Gus laughed and gave it a gentle pat like the farmer gave her cows. Then he straightened up and headed for the stairs. As he took the first step, he looked back and said, “You know, I have a new appetizer on the menu come Tuesday. You’ll have to come and try it.”

“I will,” Harvey promised.

After Gus was gone, Harvey heaved himself to his feet and waddled to bed. It was too early to sleep, but he closed his eyes anyway. When he dreamed, it was a terrible, wonderful dream of pigs made entirely of ribs, dripping with sauce.


End file.
